Moving Parts by Magdelena Tulli Read Free Book Online Page A

this gives him an unimaginable advantage over F-meier. So he exercises his privileges while he still can. On one of the evenings mentioned in his contract it may suddenly transpire that he paid for them dearly. The time, clearly, is too early for a visit; Mozhet’s clothesare rather homely. It’s easy to figure out that he has been staying in the guest room upstairs. Nothing can be heard, yet certain words are said. They accompany the look that the woman exchanges with F-meier over the table. Her hair is dyed red; the highlights catch the sun. Smiling, she exchanges the same look with Mozhet; more words are uttered. Never mind the words – it’s obvious that nothing here depends on them. F-meier takes a packet of cigarettes from the table and looks around for his lighter, which the woman – his wife – finds under a newspaper. She throws it to him, and he catches it deftly in midair, puts it in his pocket and gives a bow of acknowledgment with which his slightly ironic necktie is in perfect harmony.
    This time, so far the narrator has managed to limit things to three characters. The acrobat’s partner is absent, though she knows this scene in the sunny garden; she’s seen it many times in the movies, the same one or something similar. She knows how it could have come about and what is still to happen in the best or the worst case. Let’s say that right now she is sitting in the dentist’s chair, her mouth wide open, her jaw numb and beads of sweat on her forehead. The whirr of the drill leaves no doubt: If anesthetic has not been administered, it’s going to hurt. It’s even possible to imagine tears running down her cheeks; the reason seems understandable and the dentist would have to know a little more to guess that the problem lies rather with the patient’s heart. And yet there is nothing to cry about; those three people, too, are only dreaming of the summer’s day.They’re dreaming that they are sitting in the garden; they’re dreaming of a romance. How can they possibly have a romance when they haven’t even been given a real life? It could be said that they do not have the garden either, the green, nor the blue, nor the gold luster. And even if it were all actually taking place – what on earth could the acrobat do in such a garden for the whole morning? Perhaps he could carry the rubber ball around on his head, or walk about on his hands, whistling; or in case of necessity, he could even swallow burning matches and breathe fire like a dragon. That cannot have been what he came for. But the boy would have been enthralled. Probably. Had the car not come to an abrupt stop, with a squeal of brakes, before reaching the main road. Turning around, it races back at breakneck speed, as if F-meier, who is behind the wheel, had suddenly gone mad. Almost smashing into the gatepost, he leaves the key in the ignition and the driver’s door open. As he walks, with an impatient gesture he takes off his glasses, which may have misted over. He’s already back on the terrace; he puts the glasses on the edge of the table and says something to Mozhet, but what? The latter slowly raises his startled eyes at him and stands hesitantly from his chair; he seems a little taller than the other man. F-meier’s tie is awry; its jokey pattern no longer matches the scene. He punches the other man in the face. Now the woman turns and casts a quick glance at the window of the room where the boy is in bed. The previous evening, for a long time he was unable to get to sleep; he cried and moaned. It’scertain that several stitches will be needed over the eyebrow, though the tightrope walker seems not to realize it. Blood streams over his eye and cheek. It’s already stained his striped T-shirt; he’s smeared it across the back of his hand and has even managed to dirty the tablecloth as he reached for a packet of disposable tissues. He opens the packet clumsily